Heir of the Lion
by clairebearbooks
Summary: Little did he know that as he lifted the dying girl into his arms he was countering the aims of the most feared Dark wizard of all time. For Lord Voldemort was searching for this girl, searching feverishly...PLEASE R&R! REVIEWS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!
1. Seventeen Years Ago

'Daddy! _Daddy!_' the little girl cried. The tall man with eyes so like his daughter's turned to scoop her up. She hid her little flame-coloured head in his shoulder and clutched him with tiny, desperate hands.

'What's wrong, princess?' he asked gently. 'What happened?'

'There are bad men in the garden! I was playing the piano and then something banged and I looked out the window and something blasted the gate! They've all got wands, Daddy. And they're wearing hoods and cloaks and I'm scared…' She trailed off into a frightened whimper and hid her face in her father's shoulder. He turned, went to the stairs with long, swift strides, and took the stairs two at a time.

'Edward, what's wrong?' his wife called. She was holding a baby girl with entrancingly blue eyes and small hands, and a little boy who looked a little younger than the girl her husband was carrying was clinging to her leg.

'Amy saw Death Eaters coming into the front yard. Take William and Meaghan and Disapparate to Hogsmeade. I'll come after you with Amy,' he said quickly, pulling the cupboard door open as quietly as possible. He pulled out two big bags that were full to overflowing and pressed one on his wife.

She stared at him. 'The Death Eaters?' she said weakly.

He ignored her question. 'Go. Go now!'

There was a loud BOOM from downstairs. Then Edward heard what he most dreaded; footsteps coming up the stairs.

He put the little girl down gently. 'Sweetheart, can you be a good girl and do something for Daddy?' She nodded, eyes wide and unblinking. 'Take Meaghan and William and hide in the cupboard. Don't come out, no matter what you hear or see. Can you do that for me?'

She finally found her voice. 'Are you coming too, Daddy?' she asked timidly.

'No, sweetie, I'm not, I'm going to tell the Death Eaters to go away. Now hurry, quickly. Hide in there withMeaghan and William.'

'I want you to come too, Daddy! And what about Mummy?' she said, her eyes filling with tears.

Her mother moved quickly to kneel and embrace the little girl. 'Oh, my little baby girl, I'll see you soon. I promise.'

'Promise?' she demanded tearfully.

'Promise. Now, quickly, hide!'

Her father caught her up, kissed her lovingly, and put her little sister into her arms. Her eleven-month old brother clung to her as her father closed the cupboard door, leaving her in darkness.

The little girl could never remember what happened next. She rocked her little sister, wide-eyed and unblinking, as she heard screams from outside the cupboard doors. William had curled up and gone to sleep against her leg before the screaming started, sucking his thumb. Meaghan, the baby, whimpered once, but the little girl shushed her gently. She went to sleep restlessly in her arms.

After hours passed, the screaming stopped. But the little girl didn't dare come out, terrified of what might be waiting for her.

Time passed. Her sister woke and began to cry, but the little girl shushed her in terror. Her brother didn't wake, and at last she crept out.

The room was dark. But the little child had good night-vision. As she crept towards the bed, she stumbled over something. She looked at what she had stumbled over, and her heart stopped.

It was a body. She smelt the sweet scent of her mother's shampoo, and she could feel the scar her mother had received when she was young, under her tiny fingers. Her eyes filled with tears, but she angrily wiped them away and felt around on the floor. She encountered another body – her father's. She pulled them both towards her and rocked back and forwards, her parent's heads in her lap. Hot tears landed on her blue sundress, but she didn't notice.

Finally, she got up. Her sister was screaming, and her brother had woken up and was demanding nourishment. She found the prepared bottles of formula milk in the fridge and warmed it for thirty seconds, as her mother had so carefully taught her to do. She fed her brother with the sandwiches her mother had made for their planned picnic, and gave him the chocolate milk her father had so carefully mixed for the picnic planned for the afternoon. Then she picked up the bags her father had pulled out, donned the baby capsule her father had carried Meaghan in, and lifted the baby into it. Her sister sighed contentedly, tucked one hand into her sister's collar, and fell asleep.

The little girl picked up the two bags, slung one over each shoulder, and took her brother by the hand. She moved woodenly, going about her duties like a toy puppet, its strings being pulled by an unseen hand, directed by a methodical, invisible brain. She led him out of the house and stuck out her right hand, facing the road. In her hand was clutched a teddy bear and a photo frame.

A purple bus appeared at the end of the street, and came to a screeching halt in front of her. 'Three tickets to Hogsmeade, please,' she said. They were the first words she had spoken since she had said goodbye to her father that morning. Then she sat down on a seat and carefully opened a purse, counting out three Galleons. The conductor looked at her curiously, but didn't comment. The old man knew all too well the state of numbness which the mind goes into when a person had suffered a great and terrible loss.

The little girl somehow managed to get her brother and sister settled and calm off the bus in Hogsmeade and up to the gates of Hogwarts. She knocked on the gates and waited patiently.

Hours later, a tall man in purple, star-spangled robes came striding down from the castle, and unlocked the gates. 'My dear child, whatever is the matter?' he asked in concern.

The little girl looked up at him, and then at the tall, stern looking woman who came to stand beside him. The woman's face softened as she bent down to take the baby from the little girl.

And two-and-a-half year old Amy Johnson burst into hysterical tears and flung her arms around Minerva McGonagall as William tottered towards Albus Dumbledore and looked up at him with the timeless, ingenuous smile of children all around the world.


	2. Discovery

Fred walked downstairs, into the living room of the Burrow. George was already down there, head in his hands. He didn't look up as his twin came down the stairs and sat across from him.

'You couldn't sleep either?' George said at last.

Fred shook his head. 'Yeah, I'm too awake to sleep.'

'We're moving to Grimmauld Place tomorrow.'

'Today, actually, it's three and a half minutes past twelve.'

'Ha ha, very funny.'

'I wish Ames or Lee was here,' Fred said eventually. 'Ames can make anything easier. She's good at that.'

'I've noticed,' George muttered.

'No, I mean it,' Fred persisted. 'Remember that string of detentions we got from McGonagall for turning Malfoy's hair into a four foot afro? She stepped up and said it was her fault, she'd asked us to do it as a favour. Then she asked McGonagall to give the detentions to her.'

'How could I forget?'

'When we still got detentions, it wasn't as bad as cleaning the trophies usually are. She just made it easier by being there.'

'Ames is all right,' George said. 'She's not a bad sort.'

The next day, the Weasleys got up early to move to Grimmauld Place. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody came over to help move them into Grimmauld Place. It was only a temporary move, but they didn't know how long they'd be there for. Percy seemed distracted by something, and Mrs Weasley was even more irritable than she normally was.

A couple of days after the move, Fred and George entered Diagon Alley with Lupin. They strolled along to the end of the street and went into Madame Malkin's to buy new robes.

Loaded with shopping, they walked along the alley one last time. Lupin was talking to George when Fred dropped his bags and darted towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley and turned into it. George raced after him leaving Lupin to gather the bags with a wave of his wand before he tore after the twins.

Fred was crouched over the huddled figure of a girl. Her face was blackened with bruises and cuts, as were her arms. Her clothes were in tatters, but looked to be the remnants of jeans and a blue polo shirt. The slits of her eyes that were visible were a brilliant blue, with just a hint of green. Her hair, which was soaked with blood and muddy water, looked to be the colour of golden flames, her hands small and fine.

George knelt beside the girl, fingering a lock of hair. Lupin came to a stop. Puffing he said, 'Fred, what are you doing?'

Fred gathered the girl up in his arms carefully. 'Lupin, you remember Amy Johnson?' he said, no trace of a smile on his face.

Lupin stared at him. 'You're not serious.'

'Take a look,' he said, taking her limp hand and holding it out, palm down. On the middle finger of her right hand glimmered an engraved gold ring with a sapphire.

Lupin stared at the girl's huddled form, undecided. At last he cleared his throat, coming to a decision. 'We'll bring her back to Grimmauld Place, and Dumbledore can decide what to do' He picked up an old can and tapped it with his wand, muttering 'Portus.' A blue light glowed around the can. Fred shifted the girl in his arms to touch it with a finger. George took some bags from Lupin, and then they both touched the can. They felt the jerk behind their navels, the howling wind in their ears, accompanied by the blur of colours that meant the Portkey was working.

They arrived outside Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Bolts slid out of their sockets on the other side of the door, and it opened as Lupin took long strides towards the house.

George led the way into the kitchen. 'Oh, you're back,' Mrs Weasley said, waving her wand distractedly over a pot of soup. 'Fred, dear, can you…' Her voice trailed off as she stared at the huddled figure Fred was carrying.

'Mum, this is Amy Johnson,' George said grimly. 'We found her down in Knockturn Alley.'

'What were you doing down there?' Mrs Weasley demanded.

'Fred found her as we were walking past. He only went in when her saw her,' Lupin said wearily.

Mrs Weasley tucked a blood-soaked lock of hair back from Amy's face and looked at her. 'Bring her upstairs, Fred. Quickly.'

Late that night, Mrs Weasley appeared back in the kitchen, tired. 'Well, she's out of danger for the moment, though I can't say what will happen,' she said, washing her hands.

'All right. Boys, who is this girl?' Sirius demanded, leaning back on two legs of his chair as he looked at Fred and George.

'Amy's in our year at Hogwarts. She's a friend of ours,' Fred defended, staring back at Sirius defiantly.

'Yes, but can she be trusted?'

'I'd say so, Sirius,' Lupin spoke up. 'Her parents were murdered by Voldemort seventeen years ago. I doubt she'd be too eager to join the ranks of the Death Eaters,' he said, sitting down at the table. Fred glanced at him.

'Well, we'll see what Professor Dumbledore says about the matter,' Mrs Weasley muttered, slightly mollified.

'What matter?' said a familiar voice. Albus Dumbledore came in through the door of the kitchen, looking around the room with a smile on his face.

'Good evening, Albus. We were just saying we'd talk to you about a circumstance that has occurred,' said Mr Weasley. He looked at George, expectantly.

'Well, you see…Fred…you tell him,' George said. Fred glared at his brother before beginning.

'…and then we brought her back here and Mum said to ask you what you thought about it all,' Fred ended, addressing Professor Dumbledore.

'May I see her?' asked Dumbledore.

They walked up the stairs to the bedroom that Amy had been put into.

Fred entered the bedroom first. Amy was lying in the bed, unconscious. Her flame coloured hair fanned out on the white pillow, free of the blood that had previously soaked it. Her hair lent a gruesome effect to the girl in the bed; her face blackened and bruised, her arms and delicate, fine hands swollen with cuts and bruises. Two black eyes glared out of her face, and the white gauze over what looked like a cut extending from her temple to her collarbone was even more noticeable.

Dumbledore touched her cheek gently. 'Amy Johnson…' he murmured. 'Yes, I know Amy Johnson.'

The palm of his hand rested on her cheek. She jerked violently, then opened her mouth and screamed shrilly.

Fred stared at his friend as the high, shrill scream sliced through his senses like a sharp knife. He covered his ears with his hands, trying vainly to block out the horrifying, terrified scream that came from the helpless figure in the bed.

Dumbledore drew his wand and gently placed the tip on her bruised forehead, closing his eyes. After a few moments, the screaming stopped, and Dumbledore opened his eyes, a grim expression on his face.

He only needed two words. 'Death Eaters.'

'I would say that, now that Voldemort has returned, the Death Eaters have been instructed to target the children and relations of those who were murdered for specific reasons during the Reign of Terror. Amy's parents were killed because they were unusually strong, and I think that Voldemort has decided that their daughter would be a coveted addition to his ranks,' Dumbledore said wearily, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. Fred had never seen Dumbledore so tired. 'She will be in danger, Molly.'

Mrs Weasley was bustling around the room, trying to hide the fact that she had been badly shaken by the terrified scream that had burst from Amy. 'Well, we're all in danger now, aren't we?' she said bravely. 'Can she stay here, Albus?'

'She must, Molly. Now she has been here, Voldemort would be able to force the information from her mind. Even though I am Secret-Keeper, he would still be able to enter her consciousness and drag the information from her, killing her in the process. He has no qualms about killing, as you have seen demonstrated for yourself,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'I am sorry, Molly. It is indescribably rude of me to place this burden on you, but I must.'

'Oh, Albus, there's no reason you should be sorry. If it has to be done, it has to be done, that's all there is to it. Besides, from what I've heard from Fred and George, she seems to be quite a nice girl. Very sensible,' Mrs Weasley said, waving her wand distractedly at an extremely dusty shelf of books.

Fred said nothing. He quite liked Amy, even though George insisted she was no good with pranks, and persisted in saying she had too much moral conviction and a keen sense of justice. He had to admit she was far too well behaved to make much trouble, but he remembered one memorable afternoon in sixth year when she had become so furious with the Slytherins that she had stormed around and insisted they all practice the Unforgivable Curses and then use them on the Slytherins, then hex them with everything they could dredge up from their memories. She had then brewed a complex potion that made every Slytherin in their year fall violently in love with Professors Trelawney, Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Fred and George hadn't stopped laughing for hours after they saw Montague fall to his knees in front of McGonagall and beg her to marry him and accept his undying love for her, nor when they had seen Bella Spatino give a jumper with 'I LOVE YOU, FROM BELLA' embroidered on the front of it, to Professor Snape. Unfortunately, Amy was the only person in their year intelligent enough to brew the potion, and had, in consequence, been loaded with a month's detention from Snape. McGonagall had merely mentioned the potion in passing and fixed the girl with a half-amused smile. Flitwick hadn't even realised it was her, and Trelawney had been too besotted with the crystal ball she carried around with her to be angry. The Slytherins had been the butt of jokes for the rest of the year.

'Are you going to stay for tea, Albus?' Mr Weasley asked, polishing his glasses on the edge of his jumper.

'I am afraid I must decline, Arthur, although Molly's spaghetti and meatballs sound very appetising. I will, however, be back for the meeting tomorrow, before Harry arrives. Miss Granger is coming tonight, is she not?'

'Yes, she's coming by Knight Bus. She should be here soon.'

'Very well. I shall be back tomorrow for the meeting. Good night.'

There was a general chorus of goodbyes as Dumbledore left the bedroom and closed the door behind him gently. Almost simultaneously, there was a breath of relief from Fred and George. Everyone started to walk downstairs, when Fred grabbed his mother's arm.

'Mum, can I stay with Ames?'

'Well, all right, but don't disturb her.'

'I won't, Mum, you know me,' Fred joked.

Fred quietly pulled up a chair, sitting down with a relieved sigh. He liked Dumbledore, but it was hard work talking around him.

He touched his friend's hand and rubbed it between both of his. She stirred and opened her brilliant blue eyes for an instant, then turned onto her side and slept again. He noticed the gauze had slipped over the cut, so he lifted it gently, but stopped, staring at the cut in pure horror.

It was a wide, inflamed gash which cut her cheek in two. Blood had already soaked the gauze and was steadily weeping from the wound, along with a yellowish liquid Fred thought was pus. The muscles of her cheek were glaringly exposed to the outside world, and there was dark red blood pouring out of the part of the wound which cut down her neck. Fred pelted downstairs.

He burst into the kitchen, panting. Mrs Weasley turned. 'What is it now, Fred?'

'That cut…on Amy's neck…it looks terrible…Mum, please come and look, it's bleeding really badly. Please!' he begged, gasping for breath.

'All right, I'm coming…' Mrs Weasley and Lupin came back upstairs. George was not in the kitchen – no one seemed to know where he had disappeared to. Fred suspected, in the back of his mind, that he had gone to feed Buckbeak.

Lupin touched the tip of his wand lightly to the wound and muttered something of a lengthy nature. The flow of blood slowed and eventually stopped as a thin scab bound itself over the wound. 'It's only temporary, Molly. It should hold the bleeding until Dumbledore can have a good look at it,' Lupin said. 'You'd better ask him tomorrow to come up to see her. I'm afraid she won't wake up until the bleeding stops.'

'Well, why won't it heal?' Fred burst out.

Lupin turned to look at him. 'We don't know, Fred. Nothing I've ever seen has been this magic-resistant before,' he said sadly.

Fred stared at his friend. Her breathing seemed shallower than before, and her chest rose and fell more infrequently. Her skin under the bruises was a terrible shade of white, and he turned away as her breath rattled in her chest.

The doorbell rang. Fred winced as the portrait of Mrs Black started shrieking, and he clapped his hands over his ears. 'That'll be Hermione!' George shouted over the screeching portrait.

'I'll go down and let her in!' Mrs Weasley shouted. She hurried out of the room, and then suddenly there was a blessed silence. Fred breathed a sigh of relief and sat down next to the bed again as Lupin went out tiredly. George sat down on the opposite side of the bed. Both Fred and George stared at Amy's seemingly-insubstantial body, motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.


	3. Introductions

Author's Note:

Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for my beautiful reviews - I felt so happy to see that little numeral on my stats page. When I read them, I glowed. Thanks!

To Guess Who: Yes, I know who you are! And I stopped playing the clarinet in Year Six. Nyah!

To Megs: I hope you're happy, I'm missing choir to come to your concert. And happy about it! I think you should know that such a travesty has never before occurred in the history of my life. YAY! (And don't mention use of the name!)

To Imprisoned: I will, and you should hear more about Amy fairly soon. Keep an eye out! Or both...just kidding!

To RosiePosie: I'm glad! My English teacher thinks my dialogue is better than my description, but she says it's improving, and now I have proof that it is! Keep reading, more to come soon.

To Booky: Hmm...I think I've already crushed you in happiness at your glowing review. But anyway, I've taken your advice (as I'm sure you've noticed), so you should see some improvement. Thanks for being such a good beta!

* * *

Fred stirred and woke. He had been sitting by Amy's bed, and his friend was still breathing. Just. 

George had gone, and he was alone with the barely alive body of a girl who was possibly his favourite person at Hogwarts, George excepted. He leant forward and took her cold hand, rubbing it between his fingers. 'Come on, Ames, wake up,' he pleaded. 'I won't be able to survive without you during NEWTS, you know what we were like during our OWLS, copying off you left, right and centre. You got Outstanding for every subject and we barely managed to scrape three passes each. Think what it's going to be like during NEWTS! And there's your cousin in Wales, and you write letters to her in Welsh every other day, and she writes back; she can't do without you. Think of…think of Ginny! You're like an older sister to her. And there's all your classes…and you're taking Advanced Latin, and Professor Diva's retiring this year…remember you told me that her name literally meant, Professor Pleasant Goddess? How about the time you slipped that potion to the Slytherins…come on, Ames, you have to keep fighting. Hogwarts won't be the same without you…'

He spoke for over an hour, reminding her about Hogwarts, her friends, and the good times she had at the castle. Then he fell silent, rubbing her hand between his palms slowly, chafing her skin.

Time passed. He was dimly aware of the light within the room rising and falling, and someone entering the room several times, but they never spoke.

Someone touched his shoulder. He jumped and winced – after so long spent sitting in one position, his body was stiff.

'Good evening, Fred,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'How is Miss Johnson?'

'She hasn't moved,' he answered, depressed. 'Not since you last saw her, however long ago that was.'

Dumbledore peeled back the gauze from Amy's face and examined the cut attentively. A thin scab had knitted over the wound. 'Excellent,' he said softly, tapping the scab with his wand. A thick dressing appeared over it, padded with lots of gauze on the inside.

He placed the tip of his wand on her forehead and closed his eyes, murmuring incomprehensible words quietly as he concentrated.

Something passed from Dumbledore's wand into Amy's head, something golden with hints of red. It seemed to shimmer around her motionless form.

'Ah,' Dumbledore said happily, removing his wand.

Amy's eyelids flickered. Blue eyes looked blearily out at the world, before focusing on Fred.

Dumbledore conjured a bucket and gravely handed it to her. She stared at him for a moment, and then was violently sick into the bucket. She put it down on the floor and looked at Fred, eyes wide and childlike. Then, as he leant forward and hugged her skeletally thin body, she began to sob quietly into his shoulder.

Ginny put her head timidly in the door. A relieved smile spread across her face as she saw that Amy was awake and crying softly into Fred's shoulder, while Dumbledore beamed impartially at them both. She came in quietly and sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around Amy and resting her head on the older girl's shoulder.

Amy sniffed in a very unfeminine way. She rubbed her eyes and winced as she touched the spectacularly bruised black eyes that graced her face, before turning once again to Dumbledore.

'Good evening, Amy. Nice to see you back with us,' Dumbledore said quietly, conjuring a chair. She smiled shakily at him.

'Good evening, Professor Dumbledore,' she replied, determined to observe the niceties of common courtesy before she started asking questions.

Fred started to laugh. 'Isn't it just like you?' he gasped. 'You nearly die, you sleep for two days, we worry ourselves sick about you, and you're still observing good manners! You're insane!' Amy smiled ruefully.

'Can we tell her, Professor?' Ginny asked.

'Certainly you can, Miss Weasley,' Dumbledore said cheerfully, seating himself in the purple chintz armchair.

'You're in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix which is at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Fred, George and Lupin found you in Diagon Alley and brought you back here,' Ginny explained.

Amy's face lit up. 'Lupin's here?'

'And Sirius and Mum and Dad and Ron and Hermione. And Harry's coming in the next few…oops.' Fred put his hand over his mouth.

'What's wrong?' Ginny asked.

'Sirius Black?' Amy asked calmly. Fred nodded wordlessly.

'What are you worrying about?' Amy demanded. 'I'm not going to go off my head, jump out of bed and run around the room shrieking and faint dead away. I thought you'd know that, Fred,' she told him severely.

Dumbledore smiled. 'As pert as ever, I see. However, I fear I must interject a rather disagreeable question. What happened in Knockturn Alley?'

Amy grinned. 'I thought that would come soon. Well, here goes.

'I wasn't in Knockturn Alley to start with, actually. I was in Wales, visiting my cousins – they live with my aunt and uncle on a little farm near Cader Idris.' She seemed to give Dumbledore an ambiguous look. He nodded gravely.

'So I was on the Welsh Knight Bus coming back from Cader Idris when suddenly everything went black. When I woke up, I was in this house with men and women a couple of metres away. Then a woman came over to me; her name was Electra or something; and she wanted to know if I'd had a nice little sleep. And I didn't answer her because I didn't want to get hurt unnecessarily. She slapped me across the face and pulled her wand out.

'Then the other Death Eaters – that's who they were – all pulled out their wands and simultaneously put the Cruciatus Curse on me. The Cruciatus Curse as a singular entity hurts a lot, but fourteen Cruciatus Curses at once have a special sort of pain of their own, for some reason.'

'Electra, you said? Not Alecto?' Dumbledore interjected.

Amy nodded. 'Yeah, it was Alecto. So then after being hit with fourteen Cruciatus Curses at once, I blacked out. When I woke up, I was being kicked around by all fourteen of them and then I heard myankle crack as someone jumped on it. I felt myself being dragged out and they took me through the Floo Network to Borgin and Burkes, and then dumped me in a side alley. That was the last thing I remember before I woke up here, except dreaming about my cousins screaming at me; something about me being their sister and not telling them for seventeen years.' She looked at Dumbledore steadily. Ginny laid her head on Amy's shoulder, revelling in the feeling of her hair against her face.

Hermione poked her head in. 'Professor Dumbledore, Mrs Weasley said…' Her voice trailed off as she saw Amy, her face blackened with bruises, and Ginny's head on Amy's shoulder. Sharp eyes found the trail of tears down Amy's cheeks.

She flushed bright red. 'I'm sorry, I didn't know…'

Amy called out impulsively. 'No, don't go!'

Hermione turned, puzzled. She hesitantly smiled at the strange, bruised girl in the bed, and at Fred, who was grinning broadly.

'Are you Hermione Granger?' Amy asked inquisitively.

'Yeah…I'm Hermione.'

'I'm Amy Johnson. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'd get up, but my ankle's pretty much useless at the moment. But I've heard a lot about you. Ron sings your praises every time I see him, which is quite a lot,' she said pleasantly, smiling at Hermione.

Hermione went even pinker. 'Oh…does he?'

'Yeah, he raves about you, really.'

Hermione paused, confused. 'Nice to meet you too, Amy,' she said, feeling bewildered at the sight of this strange girl whom Ginny, Fred and Dumbledore seemed to know so well.

'What did Molly want you to convey to me, Miss Granger?' Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

'Oh, she said to say that dinner's ready, and it'll be getting cold. Fred is to come down and eat as he hasn't eaten all day. And she wants to know whether Amy is awake yet, but you obviously are, so…' Hermione disappeared from the door, very much wrong-footed and flustered.

Amy laughed. 'Poor Hermione. Is she always that flustered?'

'No, not often, but then again it's not every day she gets told one of her best friends doesn't stop raving about her,' Fred said, grinning.

'Slight diplomatic fiction there. However, it doesn't matter.'

'No, it doesn't really, does it?' Ginny said, laughing.

* * *

Please review! You know how much you love that little purple button over there...so, you know what to do...CLICK IT!

**Quote of the Day -** _Don't just sit there. You get up (hanging onto the bus handholds at the same time), you walk over and you ask that guy you've been staring at for a month to go out with you. Never mind he's a Year Six girl (who hates you)'s brother. GO AND ASK HIM OUT!_

From personal experience. I wish I had the courage to do this!


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